Letters To Dean
by Javien Deluke
Summary: After the fall, Castiel disappears to a small town (that he refuses to name) where he lives for a few short months in a small boat with a cabin. To keep him company, a little gray cat finds its way aboard one day while he's stocking up on food and supplies.Getting his newly human feet under him, being on the water just helps somehow. He often writes to dean on nights he gets lonely
1. Chapter 1

Dean,

I haven't been sleeping.  
I never had to before, so I guess I'm just getting used to the idea.

I have, however, been listening to your frantic and sometimes threatening phone messages. I find it interesting that you still talk to me just as much as you did when all you had to do was pray to an empty room. I hope it isn't costing you anything.

I'm on a boat, by the way. Don't ask how I got it. You probably won't like the answer, seeing as I didn't steal it.

I've been out here for a few days and I think it'd be best if I went back tomorrow and bought some food. I've been keeping hydrated, but... I guess I underestimated the extent of human needs.

I'm alright,  
Don't try to find me.

P.S.  
I hope that you are well.  
I promise a day is coming when I will find you and tell you what happened.  
Until then,  
Take care of yourself for me.


	2. Chapter 2

Some mornings, Dean swears he can feel another person in the bed with him. It freaked him out to begin with, but he eventually chalked it up to the unusual calm that had established itself in their world after they gave up on trying to close the gates of hell. Some mornings, though, he imagines the sound of breath on the pillow next to him and for a brief moment, his mind jumps to a strange conclusion: Cas. They've never slept together before. He's never even dreamed about it, so it was strange, feeling the phantom of a friend in bed with him. It became part of the normal morning routine. He'd wake up next to Cas (except, not really), and then he'd pull open his eyes and roll out of bed.

On this particular morning, Sam came and woke up him, handed him a letter. He looked at the name and address in confusion, then tore it open. It was only one page log, written on a piece of loose-leaf, college ruled notebook paper. Sam watched, his eyes glued to Dean's face as it changed from normal to white, then whiter. Dean didn't say anything to him about the letter or what it said, just got up and said he needed to make a call.

Sam couldn't help himself from limping quietly to the door frame of the kitchen, listening intently as Dean started to speak into his phone.

"Hey, Listen. Cas, I got your letter..."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

It's so quiet here, you wouldn't believe it.

I have so much to tell you when I see you.

But I'm terrified of what you'll say or do when I tell you where I've been or what I've been doing.

Maybe it's better, for that reason, that I stay away for a while.

Maybe if I give you and Sam time to adjust to all that's happened, you won't push me away.

But that's not really why I'm out here, doing this, on my own.

There is so much about humanity that I do not understand.

I just need... a little while.

When I think about you, I picture you well.

You never are, but... it's still a pretty picture.

There's a cat on my boat.

She must have snuck in last time I docked.

I don't know what to do.

I've got a little fish left, but...

I'll have to dock earlier this time, go buy some food for her.

I wonder if she's already got a home somewhere?

Not that you care about any of that, I suppose.

Dean,

Yes, of course I listened to the message.

You won't find me.

Don't try.


	4. Chapter 4

The day Dean received the second letter, Sam was ill. They had ups and downs taking care of this thing, and Sam was getting better (he told himself that, anyway), so they kept trying this and that. They'd finally gotten Sam to sleep for more than a few hours and Dean was slouched over in the chair next to his bed, exhausted.

Bobby brought it to him this time. He jumped when the man cleared his throat to announce his entrance.

"Jesus, Bobby..."

Bobby shrugged and handed him the letter.

"How's he doin'?" He asked, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Not good." Dean affirmed.

Bobby nodded. It's what he expected.

He was different since Hell. They all were. But Bobby's was a quieter kind. He didn't seem broken, just confused. Maybe he was stuck in the thought that this was all just some elaborate dream he'd eventually wake from back in the pit. He walked around the bunker like a ghost, picking out a book here, moving a chair there. Never any kind of committed action.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Who's writin' you, boy?"

Dean tensed and when he didn't answer, Bobby squeezed his shoulder.

"I see. I'll be in the study if you need me."

Sometimes it boggled Dean's mind, how cut off from reality they all were.  
This was all just so, so ridiculous.  
They were hunters. They saved people's lives.  
And then, there was God.  
The son of a bitch.

And then there was Cas.  
Castiel, the fallen angel, who insisted for some goddamned reason on writing him letters rather than dropping by and proving he wasn't just crazy, that they all weren't just crazy.

It made him think of Vonnegut.  
And in another life, he might've laughed at that.

He made another call. This time, he was angry.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean,  
Read this carefully.  
Before you do, I would like to make clear that I have no intention of stopping the mail.

Some people are quiet because they have to be.

Sometimes we keep things to ourselves because if we let them out, they'll get the better of us.

Human beings can withstand unimaginable things and overcome impossible odds in any given scenario and you're telling me that I need to let out whatever it is that's bothering me?

That I need to just let go of that string I'm holding on to and move on?

The longer I hold on, the longer it drives me.

The harder I pull, the more I struggle with it, the stronger I get.

So when I tell you that I'm fine, it means that I am dealing with it.

It means it is none of your business.

And it means that I can handle it.

Let me handle it.

Some people are quiet because if they weren't, they'd be loud, they'd never stop.

It's not to keep out the people around them, it's solely about restraint.

It has nothing to do with being socially correct and everything to do with self-preservation.

If I hold it in, it's mine.

I've got it pinned, it belongs to me.

If I let it out, it's up for grabs.

Let me keep my issues and let me learn from them.

I hope you understand.

See you soon.

-Cas


End file.
